To 'Dear' Dad, Love Will
by Coralsolstice
Summary: Three times Will Solace wrote to his father. And once, Apollo replied.
1. The First

**For whatever reason, the italics don't show up when I'm on my phone; so just a heads up: the letter is in italics, but it might not show on your phone.**

* * *

Will had chosen the yellow table at kindergarten today. He always chose the yellow table. He quite liked it for some reason. He obediently unpacked his little notebook (which they never actually used for notes, but felt good to carry around anyway), sharpened his pencil, and waited for Miss Sparrows to tell them what they had to do.

Miss Sparrows was Will's favourite teacher. She was a short woman with dark wavy hair she always pulled into a low side ponytail, just like his mother! Her eyes were an uninteresting shade of brown, but they sparkled with love whenever she talked to her students. And she helped Will with his reading a lot, and didn't lose her patience even when he mixed up his 'b's and 'd's.

Today, she was wearing a knee-length blue dress patterned with little flowers and a little heart pendant necklace. "Good morning, everyone!"

"Good morning, Miss Sparrows." The class chorused.

She reached behind her desk and brought out a cardboard box. Everyone stood up in their seats and strained their necks to get a look. She waved a hand to make them sit, and took out a sheet of paper. It was a light yellow (Will approved) with lines of a slightly darker shade running across it.

"I thought we could work on our writing today. I'm going to give you all one of these and you'll have to write a letter."

"Which one?" One of the boys near the front asked, confused.

"Not a letter as in the alphabet, Mike," Miss Sparrows said with a small chuckle, "A letter as in words you write to somebody."

Will panicked slightly. He wasn't very good at writing. Or more specifically, spelling. He flexed his toes nervously, and fidgeted with his pencil. He caught Miss Sparrows eyes, and she gave him a reassuring nod.

"Don't worry about spelling, I'm just looking to see how accurately you can convey your feelings."

There was an audible sigh of relief from the whole class. She shook her head in an amused way, and started handing out the sheets.

"Who do we have to write to?" Will asked.

"Someone who's special to you." Miss Sparrows replied. "Like your parents, or your grandparents. Even your neighbour!"

Will contemplated writing to his mother. But that would be silly. He saw her everyday! And his grandparents. He'd never met his grandparents. His mother said that they lived far away.

He tapped his pencil thoughtfully on his cheek, and then stared hard at the paper, willing an idea to come to him. He was concentrating so hard, he didn't notice Miss Sparrows kneel beside him.

"Having trouble, Will?"

"Sort of…I can't decide who to write to!"

"Why not your parents?"

"I see my mommy everyday, and I tell her everything! I don't need to write her a letter!"

"What about your daddy?"

Will faltered. He always saw his mother getting uncomfortable when people asked about his father. He wasn't sure if there was something he wasn't supposed to say concerning the subject. If he said something wrong, his mother would be sad. Just like how she was sad after whoever had asked about his father had left.

"Will, is…is something wrong?" Miss Sparrows was looking at him with concern. She had noticed the fear in his eyes.

"Um…"

"You can tell me anything, you know that. Are you having trouble at home?"

"No!" Will said forcefully. His mother was perfect; she'd never be the cause of any of his problems.

"Well, all right then, I won't pry. Call me if you need any help, dear." She seemed surprised that he'd snapped at her. She got up and went to one of the girls at the opposite side of the class.

Will was sorry that he'd yelled. He honestly loved Miss Sparrows. But he just hadn't know how to respond to her questions. Because he loved his mommy the most. He looked back down at the paper in front of him, guilt bubbling inside.

An idea came to him. He thought about it for a second, and then called to Miss Sparrows across the room.

"Can we mail these?"

"I don't see why not. Sure!"

He bent over his paper and then started scribbling, at first quickly, but then slowing down as he concentrated on the words, trying to figure out just how he was going to say everything.

_Dear Daddy,_

_Miss Sparrows told us to always start a letter by asking the other person how they were. So how are you? I'm pretty OK, I guess. I've never met you, so I don't know what I should talk to you about, but Miss Sparrows said that a letter is a bit of your heart that you let someone see, so since it's my letter, I think I should tell you about me._

_If you don't know, I'm five years old, and I live with mommy in the city. I don't know where you are now, but we live in New York. It's a nice place, even if it is a bit noisy. Have you ever been here? Oh yeah, you must have been, since you met mommy here._

_I love mommy a lot. She's the best. She's very beautiful and she always sings me songs, even if I tell her not to. I don't know the word. It's something like lull-bees? That doesn't make sense though. Bees sound awful. Mommy sounds so beautiful. Have you ever heard mommy singing, daddy? You really should._

_Mommy says you were good at singing too. I'd like to hear you someday. Do you think I can? Please come visit us sometime. Mommy says you're busy, but maybe just one day? She really misses you. She thinks I don't see her, but she always goes off and cries after she tells me about you. I don't like it when she's sad like that. Did you really have to leave? Really, truly?_

Will paused and looked down sadly, recalling a last Tuesday night, when he asked his mother whether his father had had blue eyes like his. She's said yes, and Will had been woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of her sniffling. He'd crawled into bed with her, even though the mattress was far too tiny, and kept asking her why she was sad.

She didn't tell him, no matter how many times he asked. But she'd smiled and hugged him tightly all night long, and Will had felt very safe and cozy.

_Because she won't tell me why you left. Did you tell her? I think it's mean if you didn't. Because she says the only thing she loves more than you is me, and she always says she loves me very much. But I'm sure you did, because she says you were a good person._

_She says I look like you. I'm happy about that, because I know what mommy looks like, but I haven't ever seen you, so I can sort of know how you look._

_What is a daddy supposed to do? I asked some of the kids in my class, and Sam told me that a daddy's supposed to hand you things when you can't reach them and give you presents. Jenny told him that he was wrong, and that a daddy is supposed to hug you when you're scared, and keep you warm when you're cold, and read to you before bedtime, and lift you up when you're too tired to go to bed yourself. But mommy already does all that for me, both what Jenny says and what Sam says._

_So I told them that, and Jenny said that a daddy's hugs were better when you're scared; because a daddy's much stronger than a mommy. And she says mommies are shorter than daddies, so you don't feel as safe when a mommy lifts you. Is that true? Because I think my mommy's really strong. She can hold four grocery bags at once! Can you do five then? Or six? That would be amazing!_

_Mommy's been a bit sick lately. Auntie Rose comes over sometimes, but I don't think she likes me. She doesn't ever smile at me or hug me like mommy, she just ignores me. And sometimes when mommy's really ill and she sees things that aren't there, she says it's my fault._

_I don't tell mommy that she says that though; that'd make her sad. And she might tell Auntie Rose to stop coming over. If Auntie Rose isn't there when she can't walk by herself, I won't be able to help her, because I'm really short, and I'm not very powerful._

_Will was vaguely aware that a lot of the others were done, as the noise level in the class was going up. It was nearly break time. He didn't really care though. He'd wanted to talk to his father, especially after Jenny told him what a father was supposed to do, and this felt very close._

_Mommy says that you'll listen if I really want to talk to you. But I tried to call you on the phone the other day, and a lady picked up. She said it was the wrong number. What's your number, daddy? I asked mommy, and she laughed. I like it when she laughs, it means she's happy!_

"Will?" Miss Sparrows had a bunch of sheets in her hand. She looked impressed when she saw that he'd nearly gotten to the end of the second side on his. "That's very good! Do you want another, or can you finish up on that?"

Will thought about it. "No thank you, Miss Sparrows!" He resumed writing the final paragraph.

_So that was a little bit about me! And mommy, but you probably already know about mommy. Do you think you could visit like I asked? Or write back? I don't know your address, and neither does mommy, so we can't visit, but Miss Sparrows says she'll mail this letter for me. I really really hope you'll like it._

_Sincerely,_

_Will_

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**Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you have time. :D**


	2. The Second

**Will is like, twelve in this? Once again, italics aren't showing up on my phone, so they might not on yours either.**

**You can skip to the bottom if you just want to see the letter, but uh, I'd recommend you read through? It's kind of long, but I think the letter would make better sense. Aaaand it's kind of short, so... owo Agh, I'm sorry if I didn't live up to your expectations. ;A;**

**AngryTeen!Will for your reading pleasure-**

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The school day was at an end. The students were moving slowly through the corridors, chatting and taking their time to get anything they needed out of their lockers. Will moved quickly through the crowd, eyes straight ahead. Just a few more meters and then he'd be out. If his luck would just hold-

"Hey, Will-_iam_!_"_

Will cringed, and stopped walking. That was his first mistake. The second was responding to Matthew Miller.

"It's just Will, Matt." Will started down the hall again, but was forcibly turned around by the shoulders, and pushed back into the row of lockers on the side. He crashed into them with a resounding clang. The breath was knocked out of him.

Matthew Miller was in the same age as Will, though much larger. He had dark, uneven hair that was gelled back in a way that most definitely didn't suit him, and tiny brown eyes that, in Will's opinion, were placed too far apart. He seemed to have taken it on himself to make each day of Will's as miserable as possible.

At the moment, Will found himself staring at Matthew, who was surrounded by three of his friends/thugs.

"Look, guys, I just want to get home." Will protested, and tried to walk past them, but was pushed back before he'd even gone two steps. People were looking now. Pausing their conversations and turning to find the source of the commotion.

"Isn't he a good boy?" Matthew mockingly asked his group. They chuckled in a way that reminded Will of trained monkeys.

"Very funny. Can I go now?"

The other boy sneered. "No, I gotta bone to pick with you. You called me 'Matt'."

"Your name IS Matt. You can't be that stupid."

"No, Matt is what people on my level call me. You have to call me Matthew. Or better yet, call me sir."

"What? No way!" Will tried walking past again. This time Matthew punched him in the gut, sending him backwards. He let out an involuntary squeak.

Matthew laughed. "Now go on, call me sir."

Will gritted his teeth. "No. Way. In. Hell."

He expected another punch, but for some reason, Matthew backed off, gave him a look that said 'we'll be settling this later' and cleared off rather hurriedly. Will was confused for a second before he notice Mr. Jenkins, one of his teachers coming down the hall.

Like most bullies, Matthew was scared teachers. Will wasn't happy. He didn't want to be protected, dammit. He'd have preferred getting another beating rather than this. It was just his nature. He always seemed to pick fights.

With a grunt, he hefted his backpack and made for the exit.

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Will was cutting through the park to get home when he heard it.

"HEY! SOLACE!"

He had been followed. Of course. Matthew didn't miss a single opportunity to use Will as a punching bag. Besides, Will knew very well that Matthew didn't like being interrupted during one of his rituals. And they seemed to be on last names now. This was serious.

Matthew was alone. Even more serious. He did all his real work alone. Will was ashamed to find that he was a little scared.

"What do you want, Matthew?"

"I see you learned from this afternoon. Good boy, keep it up and I'll give you a treat!" Matthew taunted.

"Whatever." He turned around. Maybe he could just walk away. Maybe Matthew would lose interest. Maybe-

WHAM!

There was a force on his back, and Will fell face first into the dirt. He tried to get up, but Matthew planted a boot on the back of his head. Will tasted mud. He fought back a few rebellious tears that had nothing to do with how much the impact had hurt, oh no.

"You seemed a little cocky today, Solace. I think I should fix that. You might lose your respect, you see."

* * *

Will checked himself in elevator mirror. He'd gotten most of the dirt off his face, it was still fairly grimy as he hadn't used any water. The scrapes had stopped bleeding, thank god. But the cut on his elbow was still stubbornly letting out a flow of dark blood. He'd picked the wrong day to wear short sleeves.

He was struck with the unfairness of it all. He'd never done a thing to Matthew. It was just that the first day, he'd talked back. He should have guessed that Matthew didn't take too kindly to insubordination.

Today in the park, Matthew had called him stupid. Will was tired of people doing that. He was dyslexic, that was all. That didn't mean he was stupid. Did it? No, of course not... He'd also been called a mama's boy. Well, he couldn't help it, could he? His mother was all he had. And he was all she had. They had to look out for each other.

He was painfully aware that he couldn't do much, though. He felt his heart break every time he came home and his mother was sleeping on the couch, exhausted from all the work she did. If she was lucky enough to have a few spare hours before her show at nine.

But she always had a smile for him. Always asked him how his day was, if he needed any help with his homework. He sometimes did, but he didn't have the heart to add to her work load. It was also the reason he hadn't told her about Matthew.

He stood in front of the apartment door, readying himself to go into his room as quickly as possible so that she couldn't see the blood on his clothes and the mud in his hair. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door, closed it behind him, and all but ran towards his room.

He had almost made it when-

"Will, you're home! How was-" Will didn't dare turn. he knew very well why his mother had stopped speaking.

"It was fine, thanks." His escape was prevented by Mia Solace planting her hands on his shoulders and gently turning him around.

He looked away, not meeting her eyes. If he did, he'd start crying, he knew he would. His mother often had that effect on him.

"Will, honey," she said slowly, "Did- did you get beaten up? Did someone hit my baby?"

"I'm fine." He wasn't her baby anymore.

"Who was it? We should complain to the school, they can do something about it-"

"I'm fine, mom." The school couldn't do anything. Besides, he didn't want to be protected. Why couldn't she understand?

"No, you're not! You're hurt! Just look at your-"

"I said I'M FINE!" He pushed her away. In the split second before he turned away, his eyes met hers. She looked devastated that he'd yelled. He quickly ducked into his room, but it was too late; she'd already seen the tears.

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Will spent an hour just lying on his back, letting out his emotions. His mother had spent a good chunk of that time outside his locked door, knocking and asking him to open it. Telling him that she could help, that he didn't have to go through anything alone.

He'd wanted to let her in, but at the same time he didn't. He didn't want to be a mama's boy anymore. He didn't want to be called weak, he didn't! But maybe that's what he was.

"Will!" He heard her calling through the door. "I need to go out, there's food on the table if you're hungry. We can talk later if you want to." He saw her shadow through the narrow space underneath, hopefully waiting for a reply before leaving.

After a few minutes, he heard the front door open and close. He rolled off his bed, landing on all fours. He wasn't hungry, but staying still was not his forte. His tears were all dried up now, and he couldn't bear just doing nothing. Without any real aim, he went to his desk and sat down.

There was a multitude of papers strewn across the surface, and a stack of notebooks off to one side. A single folder sat at the other end, filled with his old assignments and drawings. He really didn't like looking at it, but his mother insisted that he keep it out so that she could look at it whenever she wanted. And he always listened to her.

Except for today. Why had he yelled at her? She'd just been trying to help. The shocked, sad look on her face came back to him in vivid detail. The tears he'd been so sure were over were now coming back with a vengeance.

To distract himself, he randomly opened the folder, and flipped through. Oh god, his handwriting had been so bad. It wasn't very good now, and that was an improvement. Not to mention that all the people in his drawings seemed to resemble sticks with a squashed ball of dough stuck on top.

They were quite frightening, honestly.

He turned the page, and his eyes landed on a paper that was so old it was starting to yellow. Or maybe it was originally like that. He didn't remember. An assignment from kindergarten. He'd written a letter. A letter to his father.

Will half-smiled as he read it. He'd been so innocent. Too much for his taste. He scowled as he remembered Aunt Rose. The only reason he hadn't ever called her up and screamed abuse down the phone was because she was his mother's sister.

He'd been so stupid to believe that his father would ever read it. He'd been a good for nothing. Why else would he leave Will's mother when she was pregnant with him? He had been scared of responsibility, there was no other explanation. And his mother obviously still liked him. If he ever dared set foot in this house, Will would have chased him off with a knife. The idiot had practically ruined his mother's life.

But still, for some reason, whenever he thought about how affectionately his mother spoke about his father, he felt a strange sense of warmth. Even if he felt angry afterwards. His mother was so loving, she deserved so much better.

He leaned back in the chair and growled in frustration. He knew life wasn't fair but this was ridiculous! He rubbed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He was so frustrated. Frustrated and angry at his father. He needed to scream, shout. But he'd get them both evicted for disturbing the peace. Maybe...

Feeling a bit awkward, he dug through his drawer till he found what he was looking for- a pad of paper. Grabbing a pen out of his backpack, he settled down at the desk, shoved a few sheets away and started writing.

_'Dear' Dad,_

_I honestly don't know why I'm doing this. You're never going to read it. Nor would I let you. But this is strangely calming._

_Right. So I've been feeling worthless lately. I know what you'd say: "it's part of growing up", "you'll think how silly you were in a couple of years", "everyone feels the same". But you're wrong. The others don't have to deal with everything I do. They can read like a normal human being, they don't have to worry about their mother every moment of the day._

_She's sick. I know she tries to hide it, but I can tell. And I'm terrified that something might happen to her. And this might sound selfish, but she's all I have. If anything goes wrong, where'll I go? Social Services? I don't want to get booted around from family to family. I don't want to feel unwanted. But it looks like that's where I'm heading._

_It's your fault, you know. Entirely yours. If you'd stayed, she wouldn't have to work so much. I'm assuming, of course, that you would have found a job, and not been a lazy ass. She deserves loads better than you, I hope you know. Loads, LOADS, better._

_Why did you leave, though? Did you just leave one day? SO suddenly that she didn't have a chance to tell you that I was on the way? Or were you scared? I can understand that, but if you didn't want to look after a child, you could have just sent some money occasionally, you irresponsible- _

Will stopped himself. Deadbeat or not, he didn't think he should insult anybody his mother so obviously still fancied.

_The only reason I'm not saying worse is because of mom. I still hate you, I hate every fibre of your being. If you think I'm in some sort of denial, you are sadly mistaken._

_Which brings me back to mom. I'm worried about her, I really am. If she doesn't stop working so much...do you think you could come back for me if she died? I don't want to be alone._

Will reviewed the last two sentences, annoyed with himself. He angrily crossed them out, trying to ignore the feeling of dread in his stomach whenever he thought about his mother.

_No. I'm not in denial. _

_Did you really love her? Or was she just...I don't know, entertainment or something? I subtracted my age from hers the other day. She was nineteen when she had me, did you know that? She was an outcast, even from her own family. You ruined her life, and I can't excuse you for that._

_She works three jobs now. Two in the morning, and singing at night. She says that's how you met her. I don't blame you for falling for her. She does sound amazing. I bet she sounds better than you ever did, even though she says you were much better than her._

_I don't think I'll ever be half as hard working as she is. It's hard when you can't even read without getting a headache. The only reason I'm sad is because I'm sure she must be disappointed in me. Because I'm not as good as the others. I try, I really do. I just...can't._

_Am I as stupid as Matthew says? I tell myself I'm not, but y'know, denial and all. I hope I'm not. Mom doesn't deserve a stupid child. All I know is that I'm blaming you for your genes._

_I really, really don't know how to express how much I loathe your existence. _

Will liked that last sentence.

_But I hope this gave you an idea. _

_No love,_  
_Will_

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**Eh, I'd like to think Matthew got severely sunburned later in the week. Because I got a thing for protective fictional daddies. eue**

**Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think. ^_^**


	3. The Third

**I felt really guilty about half-abandoning this, and I couldn't concentrate on anything else. But I wasn't 100% inspired for this either. More like..92%? **

**If it shows, I'm sorry. But I hope you enjoy!**

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Lee was gone. Just like that. It was almost like a dream, Lee turning around and flashing him a grin, the giant's club coming down. And then, boom. All done. Game over. But the blood had been real. The sickening sound of bone cracking had been real.

And now Will was sitting on the floor in his cabin, back against his bed and knees drawn up to his chest, trying desperately to stop reliving the moment. His siblings were all at dinner. But he'd just not felt up to it.

He just couldn't see the point right now. He remembered how Lee had shown him around Camp, and the huge, welcoming smile on his face when Will had been claimed. He wouldn't ever forget that first time he'd belonged.

He'd cried after the funeral. Of course he hadn't let anybody see, but he'd cried like the time his mother was late to pick him up from school when he was four and he thought she'd forgotten him. He thought he'd never feel that lost ever again.

Will didn't want to admit it, but he wanted his mother. He wanted to hug her and sob, and feel her soft touch as she patted his back and told him not to worry. But he couldn't go to her now. First she'd faint when she learned her son had been in danger. Then she'd yell. And then she'd hold him by the shoulders and shake him silly before holding him close and telling him he was as irresponsible as his dad.

Will hauled himself to his feet and dragged himself to the trunk at the foot of his bed. Pushing it open, he retrieved the pad of paper on top and flopped down on the bed.

The pad was filled with his neat handwriting. Writing letters to his father when he felt…untethered like this was strangely comforting. Being a demigod, the feeling was all too familiar. Pages upon pages that Will had never read again, all stuffed with words he was too embarrassed to even look at.

And yet he always wrote. It was the only was he felt even a semblance of closeness to his father.

_Dear Dad_  
_I hope you've noticed how I've stopped putting the quotes around the 'dear'. I'm still not sure what to think about you, but you're loads better than Aphrodite, even if you're just as concerned about your looks._

_Dad, do you ever watch us? Not when we're fighting and stuff, like on a normal day? Do you watch us practising on the archery range? And during the battles in the arena? Well, actually I wouldn't mind if you don't watch then. The Ares cabin always thrashes us. It's your fault. We're only good at long range._

_But seriously, do you? I'm not sure if I want you to. Because, well, you just don't seem the type to…care? I'm sorry if that seems harsh, bur you have to admit, it's true._

_And if you are watching, then were you when Lee died? He's your son, isn't he? Don't you care about him? What am I saying? Everything about Lee is in past tense now. Couldn't you have saved him? I mean, you are a god after all._

_Wait, I know, I know. Ancient laws, right?_

_I'm sorry. That was a bit rude. I just really need someone to talk to. Michael wouldn't understand. Kayla's too young. The others im not really close to. Don't get me wrong, I'd trust them with my life, but they're all younger than me. They're less experienced._

_I need someone who's...you know, an old hand. I'm never going to send this letter, but rambling with words like this distracts me. It makes things not seem so bad._

_Sometimes I think about how awesome it would be if I could talk to you like a real dad. I'm not saying I want to go to baseball games with you. But maybe a little father-son talk? I'm just torturing myself, thinking like this. You're a god; I'm just a half-blood._

_I think you're one of the better Olympians. Sure, you're vain, selfish and irresponsible. But you claim your kids even before they do something heroic/suicidal. You make us feel wanted. We think you care._

_Let me ask you a question. If you could, would you protect us? Like a regular dad? Not from bullies and things we can take care of ourselves; but when we face insurmountable odds. When we're frightened, staring death in the face. When we're so scared we feel like giving up and sobbing._

_Would you?_

There was a knock on the cabin door. Will panicked and stuffed the pad under his pillow. He sat tense, until the voice of his little half sister Kayla called through the door.

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you hungry?" She sounded concerned and a little apprehensive.

"No. Go back to dinner, Kayla."

There was a shuffling sound. Will could see Kayla's shadow under the door.

"We're worried, Will." She said after a long pause.

Will bit his lip. They would be, wouldn't they? Michael was probably in way over his head in his new position as head counsellor. The guy always had his back, even if he was an annoying little weasel. It would be tasteless of him to not even consider helping out, just a little.

"I'll be there in a minute, Kayla. Go on."

Kayla sounded considerably happier. "All right!"

Will watched her shadow move away, making sure she was gone before turning his attention back to the pad.

_You don't have to answer that, I guess. And I can't make you. But if you want to know, we think you would. I know Zeus probably wouldn't like to hear it, but I noticed how easy the healing was after the battle. Like I'd gotten stronger. But it's not wishful thinking, right? You were helping._

_Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Not even my brothers and sister. Unless you want me to, of course, but I don't think you will._

_I guess what I'm trying to say is: thank you for acknowledging us. Thank you for being a dad, even if it's only rarely. Thank you._

_Sincerely,  
Will._

Sincerely. He meant it this time.


End file.
